


Confession is not Betrayal

by BlackandBlueMagpie



Series: Don't Call Me Brave [4]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-30
Updated: 2013-07-30
Packaged: 2017-12-21 22:18:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/905589
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlackandBlueMagpie/pseuds/BlackandBlueMagpie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jehan can’t sleep; he lies awake listening to Courf’s breathing slow and the sounds of the streets outside.<br/>He’s not sure what time it is when he slips out of the bed.<br/>Grantaire’s flat isn’t far. The outside door lock doesn’t work so Jehan slips in and patters up the stairs.<br/>Grantaire’s not in. He leans back against the door with a sound between a sigh and a whimper and slides down to the ground to wait it out.<br/>Grantaire wakes him up an indeterminable length of time later.<br/>“I was worried about you.”<br/>“I was fine, Jehan, really.”<br/>“Were you?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confession is not Betrayal

“Come to bed.” Courfeyrac murmurs, holding out his arms. Jehan is pacing around the room, rubbing his hands together and chewing on his lip. He looks exhausted, his hair has come loose from its plait and flows over his shoulders in messy waves.  
“I can’t.”  
“Try.”  
“How can you be so calm? He hardly made it out of the door. You really think he’ll make it home? He could be… Anywhere. He could be hurt and ill and-” Courf takes his hands and brings him to a halt.  
“Jehan, he’ll be alright.”  
“You don’t know that…” Courfeyrac sighs, taking Jehan’s face in his hands.  
“There are too many bars. He’ll be alright. Now rest.” Jehan allows Courf to pull him onto the bed and kiss his forehead and pull him close. But he can’t sleep; he lies awake listening to Courf’s breathing slow and the sounds of the streets outside. 

He’s not sure what time it is when he slips out of the bed. He pulls on his jeans and trips into shoes without socks and pulls his coat tight around himself as he hurries out.  
Grantaire’s flat isn’t far. The outside door lock doesn’t work so Jehan slips in and patters up the stairs. Inside he can see his breath, it smells musty and damp and someone’s TV is playing on the floor above. Grantaire’s not in. He leans back against the door with a sound between a sigh and a whimper and slides down to the ground to wait it out.

He must fall asleep, because when he opens his eyes it’s to Grantaire nudging him awake, looking down. He looks pale and tired, but gives him a small smile. Jehan throws his arms around him and kisses him on the cheek, making Grantaire laugh.  
“I was worried about you.”  
“I was fine, Jehan, really.”  
“Were you?” Grantaire doesn’t answer, unlocking the door from behind Jehan and leading him in.  
“You didn’t need to stay up waiting for me; it’s hardly the most savoury of places. You want a drink?” He’s already headed for the kitchen, pressing his lips together. He’s not intentionally…  
“Grantaire.”  
“Tea, coffee?”  
“Talk to me.”  
Grantaire turns to look at him. Jehan looks tired, his eyes are rimmed with circles as dark as Grantaire remembers his being, his hair hanging loose around his cheeks and casting shadows, his clothes are messy, as if pulled on in haste. Grantaire feels a stab of guilt, because even if he’s been the one feeling shit these past few days everyone else had to help him through it, and he can only imagine what that must have looked like. And then he’d run off without a word.  
“I was selfish, I’m sorry.” Is all he can think of to say. Jehan sighs; reaching out to lace his fingers through Grantaire’s and pull him over to the sofa.  
“Please don’t apologise, just… Talk to me. I’m not angry or… Whatever’s stopping you. Do you feel alright?” Grantaire nods.  
“Just kinda, I couldn’t bring myself to get drunk. Then I ended up outside Enjolras’s house.” Jehan pauses, brow furrowing.  
“What’d he say?”  
“He didn’t want me coming home. Then I snapped at him about not caring.”  
“Well that was hardly uncalled for-“  
“No, no. I completely… Lost it. I said all this stuff and if he tried to explain I just snapped more and… I cried and told him how I felt.” Grantaire feels like crying again now, letting out a shaky breath.  
“Oh...” Jehan murmurs and he squeezes Grantaire’s fingers gently as his friend pulls himself together.  
“He kissed me.”  
“Oh.”  
“And I don’t even know why… I was about to leave and he just grabbed me and kissed me. Then he said sorry, then we kissed again and he suddenly said I should get some rest and… Well I snuck out.”  
“Didn’t you want to see him?”  
“Would you have done? The guy I thought, think, hates me. The guy, who only last night told me to leave his meeting, kisses me. Properly genuinely kisses me. And it’s not like he has the excuse of being drunk or anything so why did he do it? Out of passion, spur of the moment ‘shit I’ve upset Grantaire and he’s just admitted he likes me what should I do?’”  
“He could like you?”  
“Really.” Grantaire mutters bitterly, pressing his lips together.  
“He’s not exactly the most open about… Anything like that. It’s entirely possible he’s just as freaked out as you are and got confused yes, but it’s also possible he was worried and didn’t understand why and so got frustrated. Because he would, and he’d refuse to acknowledge it.”  
“I don’t want to think about this.” Grantaire pushes a hand through his curls “I don’t want to think.” Jehan holds out the crumpled packet of cigarettes from his pocket. Grantaire favours the turquoise ones, Jehan selects a lilac for himself. Grantaire digs out a lighter from a stack of papers that’s only half full and flicks at the wheel with his thumb.  
Click, click.  
His hands shake around the lighter and he slips again.  
“May I?” Jehan puts his hand over Grantaire’s gently and takes the lighter from him. He holds out the flame to Grantaire’s cigarette. He takes a lungful, sighing deeply around the smoke.  
“I’m useless.” He says in smoke. Jehan glances up from where he’s lighting his own cigarette.  
“No, you’re not. You’re ill.” Grantaire tsks and balances the cigarette between his fingers, watching the smoke curl with an intent that says he’s avoiding something. “You told him Grantaire, that’s something.”  
“Confession is always weakness. The grave soul keeps its own secrets, and takes its own punishment in silence.” Grantaire mutters.  
“Don’t start quoting Dix at me; I will start quoting positive stuff at you.”  
“Stuff? Very specific.”  
“I have too many positive quotes to be specific.” Grantaire frowns at him and Jehan blows out a lungful of smoke in his face. “You haven’t seen my bedroom; I scripted all my favourite quotes onto the wall. Courfeyrac spent an hour or so just staring at them.”  
“You’ll have to show me sometime…”  
“I will.” Jehan smiles fondly.  
“Why do you have so many quotes?” Grantaire asks, because he needs something to think about instead of the turquoise paper burning ever closer to his fingers.  
“Because at one time I needed them to make me… To help me stay positive about myself. ‘Happiness can only exist in acceptance’.”  
“Orwell.”  
“Mhmm. It’s across the foot of my bed. I used to have a lot of issues about myself, you probably wouldn’t recognise pictures of me as a teenager because I used to make myself dress a way my dad deemed ‘acceptable’. So I mean, I didn’t have my first boyfriend until I was 18 because I thought if I didn’t sleep with a guy I wouldn’t be gay and so I would be this broken person. Don’t look at me like that, I know me as anything but a poet like this is hard to imagine, it is for me too.” Jehan laughs softly and draws on his cigarette again. “But hey, I got out of it eventually and I started liking myself more and I got more confident in my own skin. And it was such a revelation to me because it wasn’t entirely conscious I just kinda… It happened and then I tried to make it happen more and here I am. Nearly completely better and all that. You’ll get there Grantaire, even if it doesn’t seem like it.”  
“What if I don’t?” Grantaire murmurs quietly, staring down at his hands as they shake again, without a cigarette to occupy them now.  
“Then I’m still not going to go anywhere. None of us are going anywhere.” Jehan takes his hand and squeezes his fingers lightly. “I know you probably need more of a distraction than me talking and if I wasn’t with Courf I would be more than happy to provide that. I can do cuddles instead?” Grantaire lets out a small laugh, almost despite himself. It’s still got a bitter edge to it, bleeding through in the way feelings can only be seen through genuine emotion. Jehan holds out his arms with a small smile and pulls Grantaire against him. Jehan thinks, maybe, he looks like someone who’s had a carpet pulled out from under him, stuck on an icy lake that creaks and threatens to crack open beneath his feet. When Jehan holds him he can feel him shake, sporadic trembles that Grantaire seems to be used to as he curls against Jehan’s chest and presses his face against Jehan’s jumper. Jehan cards his fingers through Grantaire’s hair, finding the knots left by restless nights.  
Grantaire sighs.  
“Do you think I’m stupid?”  
“No.” He chuckles quietly at Jehan’s reply, and it wracks out of his body as his hands fist against the material of his jumper.  
“You’d be the first.”  
“I know I’m not.” Jehan tells him and Grantaire relaxes, just a little. He can feel Grantaire’s arm snake around his own stomach and Jehan kisses his hair gently. “Try and sleep. I know it won’t be easy but I’m not leaving.” Grantaire nods. “I’ll grab you some water.”  
“’Kay.” Jehan kisses his forehead again before pulling them both up. He leaves Grantaire to get ready, going instead to the kitchen to dig around for pain killers and clean glasses. It takes him slightly longer than expected, finding the tablets not in the first aid kit but with the plates and cups. Grantaire’s sitting on his bed when he gets back, knees pulled up to his chest, staring at the canvases opposite him. Jehan holds out the glass of water and the two tablets. “I already um… Enjolras gave me some.”  
“He’s certainly excelling on that front. I’ll leave them here.” He puts them on the pile of books, hoping they won’t get lost or knocked over. Grantaire sips his water thoughtfully as Jehan kicks off his shoes.  
“Can you..?” Grantaire shifts a little.  
“Sure.” Jehan smiles and climbs in next to him “Your flat is freezing, you know that right?”  
“I’ve stopped noticing.” Grantaire shrugs. Jehan quickly sends off a text to Courfeyrac informing him of where he was and how Grantaire was doing before wrapping his arms back around his friend again. “Sorry for making you worry.”  
“You have every right to make people worry. Besides, I’d rather worry about you than not have you as a friend.”  
“Thanks.” Grantaire curls into him again and Jehan holds him tighter until his breathing slows to a sleeping level, broken occasionally by whimpers or tremors.  
It’s going to be a long night.

**Author's Note:**

> Well I decided to post the interim bit because I really love Jehan/Grantaire friendship for some reason...  
> Well, yes. I promise the next update of this may be less angsty.  
> Title Quote: “Confession is not betrayal. What you say or do doesn't matter; only feelings matter. If they could make me stop loving you-that would be the real betrayal.”  
> ― George Orwell, 1984


End file.
